


Learning Through Accidents

by Morgane (smilla840)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blame it on the blizzard, Bonding, Dubious Consent, First Time, Fix-It, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mission Gone Wrong, More warnings inside, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilla840/pseuds/Morgane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Fury decides to go back into the field for a one-time op, Hill assigns Clint to act as his bodyguard in case he ditches his security detail (again). He does, but apart from that nothing goes as planned. </p>
<p>Or: the one where Clint ends up accidentally bonded to Fury, who’s already bonded to Phil (not that Clint is supposed to know that).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning Through Accidents

**Author's Note:**

> Right. So this happened?
> 
> **Warnings** : A/B/O ‘verse, dub-con (see below for details), knotting, bonding/biting, vague references to past attempted non-con, sterility due to injuries, references to m-preg, spoilers for the premise of _Agents of SHIELD_ but not for specific episodes
> 
> Do mind the warnings and let me know if I missed anything. Re: the dub-con: both characters involved discuss what’s going on (i.e. one of them going into rut) before it happens and ‘consent’ to sex, but given their lack of alternatives at the time I still consider it dub-con.

When Hill called Clint into her office and asked him to shadow their boss for the foreseeable future, he didn’t think anything of it. 

There was nothing out of the ordinary about the request, after all. Fury liked to think he was invincible, but they could hardly let the _Director of SHIELD_ wander about without back-up whenever he decided to ditch his security team. It had taken one particularly close call two months after Hill’s promotion to Assistant Director for her to implement the policy: if Fury kept insisting on going off on his own when there was a credible threat to his safety out there – i.e. most of the time –, then she would assign him a guardian angel in addition to his usual security, someone who hopefully would be able to keep up with him.

It wasn’t always Clint – he had other things to do, for one –, and it didn’t always work. Fury could spot a tail from a mile away and he had no qualms in shaking it, leaving more than one agent to report back to Hill empty-handed. That had never happened to Clint, although he doubted it had anything to do with his skills. Fury had to know he was there, same as the others, and yet the man seemed to tolerate his presence. Maybe the two assassination attempts Clint had stopped before they could make it within a hundred feet of Fury had convinced him to keep him around, or maybe their shared history made it easier for him to accept Clint watching his back. Whatever it was, they left each other alone to do their job, and that was more than Clint could ask for.

Nothing happened during the first three days. Fury spent most of his time on the newly repaired helicarrier where he was as safe as he could be, and Hill made sure Clint was assigned as his pilot when he had to travel for meetings. It was pretty boring stuff, but Hill always had her reasons for going the extra mile and so Clint stayed focused on the task at hand. He had almost brought SHIELD to its metaphorical knees with Loki, there was no way he was going to let Fury get hurt on his watch.

It was tiring, with Clint only allowing himself to relax when Fury was secure in his office. He was taking advantage of such a time by taking a quick nap in an empty office five doors away when the man himself banged the door open.

Clint startled awake and almost fell out of his chair.

“Well, come on, we’ve got a plane to catch,” Fury said, shoving a backpack at Clint who caught it reflexively.

That wasn’t part of their routine.

Still, he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth and so when Fury turned on his heel Clint scrambled after him.

Hill was waiting for them on the tarmac, arms crossed as she stood between Fury and a quinjet on stand-by. Clint hung back as she tried to convince him to at least take a strike team with him, but it was a lost cause – nothing and no one could change Fury’s mind once he had made it. Hill knew that too, and sure enough she stepped aside, giving Clint a pointed look as soon as Fury had moved past her. He nodded back at her and followed their boss into the ‘jet as Fury waved the pilots back into their seats. Soon they were in the air and Clint finally had a chance to speak up.

“You’re going to tell me what’s going on, sir?”

“Hill didn’t tell you?”

Clint shrugged. He hadn’t asked.

“An old contact of mine has intel he’ll only hand over to me. What he passed along as proof checks out, so I’m going.”

“Without back-up?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

Clint shot him an unimpressed look. If this was an ambush, whoever would be waiting would be prepared and there was only so much Clint could do against a small army. He was good but he wasn’t _that_ good, and they both knew it. Which could only mean…

“Let me guess, your contact is on SHIELD’s most-wanted list – somewhere near the bottom or it wouldn’t matter – and he doesn’t feel ‘comfortable’ hanging around a squad of agents.”

Fury grinned. “The intel’s big. It’s worth it.”

“And Hill didn’t agree?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Agent Barton, but _I’m_ still in charge around here, yes?”

Clint didn’t roll his eyes but it was a close thing. He could definitely see why Hill had thought Fury would need back-up.

“Do you trust him?”

Fury grinned. “Not even a little bit.”

Awesome.

“So where are we going?” Clint asked, leaning back into his seat as he tried to get more comfortable.

“Russia.”

Fucking terrific. 

“I hope you packed my coat,” he grumbled, because Russia in February was cold and definitely not his idea of a good time. 

Fury raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you think?”

Clint sighed.

Russia it was.

\---

Their ride touched down long enough for them to get out and then it was off again, headed to one of the American bases in Japan to refuel. It would pick them up in two days’ time if all went well, and as Clint watched it disappear he wished not for the first time that Fury’s contact had picked a more hospitable place for the meet – or that the helicarrier hadn’t been needed on a time-sensitive assignment on the other side of the globe. 

As it was, the coordinates forwarded to SHIELD identified a location miles away from any sign of civilisation and the aerial sweeps of the place had shown a lot of trees and very few heat signatures. If the idea was not to be seen, the man had picked the perfect spot. If the plan was to kill or capture Fury, it would work pretty well too.

Clint shivered at the freezing temperature and adjusted his grip on his bag before following Fury. Snow crunched under their boots as they walked, scanning the terrain around them, but there was nothing to see, only trees that quickly grew denser. Clint could find no sign of anyone ever passing through here, and it wasn’t as reassuring as it would usually be.

Despite the circumstances – or maybe because of it – there was a bounce to Fury’s steps, and Clint found he couldn’t begrudge him for it. If he spent most of his time arguing with the WSC he would jump at a chance to get away too, regardless of the odds. Hell, Fury was probably hoping it _was_ a trap just so he could shoot some bad guys for once.

They set up camp a couple of miles away from the rendezvous point. With the closest safe house hundreds of miles away, they were roughing it up and Clint was glad they wouldn’t stay long. Camping wasn’t his idea of a good time even under good weather conditions, and there was a storm heading their way.

He assembled his rifle quickly and checked that everything was in working order. He had been strongly discouraged from using his bow on SHIELD ops ever since New York – it was too recognisable, apparently – and while Clint didn’t like it, he did understand the reasoning behind it. The public may be fine with its heroes killing a bunch of aliens in battle, but cold-blooded assassinations of people on their morning run were something else entirely. It made little difference to Clint – they were all bad people – but then he probably wasn’t the right person to ask. Still, for once he was glad that he had had to leave his bow behind – he had never been keen on subjecting his baby to sub-zero temperatures – so he spared Fury his usual complaints as they scouted the area, familiarising themselves with the terrain.

“What do you think?” Fury asked later that evening while Clint cleaned his rifle.

“Lots of trees. Lots of cover,” he said without looking up from his task. If it was a trap, it could go either way, he didn’t add, because Fury knew it already. “We could use some infrared tomorrow.”

Fury nodded. “We’ll get HQ on it at first light.”

Except they couldn’t raise HQ the next day. Clint would have liked to believe it was just the storm front interfering with the comms but when had he ever been that lucky?

The smart thing would have been to abort but Fury was determined and they were sitting ducks either way – their transport would be on its way back now that they had missed their morning check-in, but it would still take hours to get there. They may as well see it through.

So come mid-morning they trekked to the rendezvous point, an old crumbling house that had been abandoned a long time ago. They went their separate way once they got close, and Clint headed for the spot he had picked the day before, climbing up the tree and securing his position. It gave him as good a view of the edifice as possible, but there were still plenty of trees in the way. He would just have to be creative.

Not long had passed before Clint saw someone coming towards them.

“Movement,” he said in his mike before remembering Fury couldn’t hear him with the comms down. 

Fury caught sight of the man soon enough though, raising a hand in greeting. His body language was relaxed as they met up and started talking, and Clint took his eyes off them to make a sweep of the surrounding woods. At first there was nothing, but a flicker in the corner of his eye made him reconsider. Squinting, he was trying to figure out what had warranted a closer look when he saw it again, the scope of a sniper rifle catching sunlight at the right angle.

_Shit._

With no way to warn Fury Clint took the only option he had. He fired.

The shot was loud in the stillness of the forest, and it was quickly followed by a second, Fury catching up quickly and dispatching his contact. Then he was moving, and Clint focused on covering him, clearing a path for him to get the hell out of there even as more people started to converge on their location, abandoning all stealth in the hopes of catching their prize. Clint didn’t know where they had come from or what kind of tech they were using but he would worry about that later. For now he had to get Fury out of there. 

Ultimately they got lucky: whoever was behind this hadn’t expected Clint, and they wanted Fury alive. Clint didn’t share their qualms – he shot to kill and so did Fury. 

Eventually Clint had to move, his position compromised and impossible to hold. He followed the sound of gunfire to find Fury again and then they ran, their camp lost along with the rest of their supplies. 

They went east towards the lake that had showed up on the aerial survey along with small black squares that hopefully were buildings. A couple of miles in, a burst of static informed them their comms were back online – they must have moved out of range of whatever had been disrupting the signal. Clint got HQ on the line, only to get more bad news: the storm front was moving in quicker than expected, and their bird had been forced to touch down to let it blow over. Clint relayed the information to Fury and they resumed walking, the cabins at the lake their only option now. At least HQ had confirmed their existence and passed along more precise directions, along with the news that the buildings appeared to be empty, no smoke or residual heat coming from any of them. 

All Clint and Fury had to do was get there. 

It started to snow, lightly at first and then more and more steadily as hours went by. With the temperature dropping fast, Clint had to focus all his energy on putting one foot in front of the other and not losing sight of Fury. The promised storm would be upon them soon and their comms were down again. At least they had seen no sign of pursuit in the past couple of hours: for better or for worst, they were on their own. 

When Clint finally spotted a dark rectangular shape amidst the trees it was almost dark. The cold had made his fingers stiff but the lock gave way easily. All was dark and silent inside but they still pulled their gun, making quick work of clearing the house. It wasn’t much: a rectangular room served as both bedroom and living room with a large bed on one end, a couch, table and chairs on the other and a stone fireplace taking up most of the far wall, and a kitchen and bathroom completed the ensemble. It would do.

By that point Clint wanted nothing more than to collapse and never move again, but they needed wood and water, food too if they could find it, and so he forced himself to head to the kitchen. The cupboards were mostly bare and nothing happened when he turned on the tap – though whether the water had been turned off for the winter or the pipes were frozen was anybody’s guess. A door led from the kitchen to an outer shed, and Clint was relieved to see that at least they had plenty of wood.

Fury was standing by one of the barred windows when Clint came back into the main room, and he joined him, peering out. The snow was falling harder now, and it was difficult to see anything farther than a few feet away. He could only hope the storm would immobilise their attackers as surely as it had them.

“Give me some good news,” Fury said.

“Fire won’t be a problem. But we’ve only got a couple of cans, and the water’s not working.”

“Okay. Get a fire going, I’m going to check the other cabins. Who knows how long we’re going to be here for.”

Clint swallowed his protests and nodded, watching Fury leave and hoping he would be able to find his way back.

He went and gathered logs from the shed, building a fire quickly. Once he was sure it had taken he went to find the water junction and turned it on before trying the tap again, wincing at the screeching noise that followed. The water coming out was brownish at first, but it cleared quickly and Clint drank it with relief. 

All the while he kept a close eye on his watch, trying to decide if too much time had passed and if he should go after Fury. He was adding a log to the fire when the man finally returned, carrying a bag with him. 

“I found more cans,” he said, though he looked mildly put upon. 

“The water’s back on,” Clint told him and Fury went to the kitchen to drink from the faucet. “Any sign of pursuit?”

Fury shook his head as he came back into the room, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “If they’re smart they turned back long ago, or they’re lying low somewhere.”

He sat down heavily next to Clint and they watched the fire in silence, letting its warmth slowly seep into their bodies.

The storm didn’t let up over the next few days, but they were holed up somewhere warm with food and water – almost grandiose accommodations for a SHIELD agent. There wasn’t much to do in the cabin, but Clint found a couple of paperbacks on the shelves and he laboured over them for hours each day. While he spoke Russian fluently – with an atrocious accent, according to Natasha – he didn’t read it very well, never having had much cause to practice. With nothing but time on his hands he was slowly getting better at it while Fury did the same.

It had been over a decade since they had been in the field together and it was a bit awkward at first, but Clint found himself falling back into old habits quickly. Long before Fury had become his boss, he had just been Nick and they had been friends – of sorts. Clint would never forget the day the man had showed up out of the blue after their show when he had still been with the circus. Clint had been sixteen and scared out of his mind, and the ensuing kidnapping hadn’t helped. He had made his displeasure known by trying to knife the stranger, but that had only made Nick laugh and he had sat Clint down and told him a couple of painful truths before letting him go: Clint could go back to the circus and end up in jail very soon, or he could do something with his life. Clint hadn’t believed him – since when did the government care about dumb kids anyway? – but less than a week later, the FBI had shown up and arrested a bunch of guys. Nick had showed up then and this time Clint had gone with him, distrustful and wary. He had half-expected to end up in a ditch somewhere – and he hadn’t really cared at the time –, but Fury had turned out to be alright.

SHIELD had put Clint through school, and they had let him go when he had said he wanted to join the military. He had gone back to them in the end, because he owed them and because everything else he had tried had been _boring_ , and the knowing look on Nick’s face had been all the welcome he had needed. 

For the next couple of years, they had gone on ops together more often than not, before Nick’s promotion and Phil. It had changed after that, a certain distance necessary for Nick’s new position, but Clint had maintained a closer relationship with the man than most SHIELD agents. Oh, it wasn’t always easy. Sometimes the line between Nick and the Director would blur and Clint would have trouble separating the two. It had taken him months to get over the five days it had taken Fury to call him and Nat into his office to let them know Phil was alive – not the reason itself, he had come to understand that part quickly enough, but the complete disregard for how they – _he_ – had felt during that time. Clint didn’t like to remember those few days, the vast emptiness inside him and the guilt, so much guilt. He had hated Nick a little for not assuaging at least some of it quicker than he had ended up doing and he never wanted to feel that way again.

Being stuck in a cabin in the middle of Russia with Nick was just like old times, and Clint could admit – at least to himself – that he had missed it a little.

However by the fourth day Fury was clearly getting angsty about something. He could barely keep still and kept going back to the window, checking the sky for signs of improvement. Clint ignored it at first – they had been cooped up for a while, it happened –, but as the day went by and Nick grew more agitated, he was forced to reconsider. And that was when he remembered.

Clint had long made a point of knowing when alphas he was in close contact with had their rut so he could stay clear of them when the time came. Never mind the fact that most alphas – and omegas – who worked at SHIELD were on suppressants all year round unless they were bonded, it was an old defence mechanism. After all, it only took one miss – as Fury was demonstrating. 

Even with all their time in the field together, it had been harder to pinpoint when Fury’s was than most agents who went off their meds to fuck it out at one point or another, but Clint had figured it out eventually.

It came on the same dates as Phil’s.

Clint knew he wasn’t supposed to know that. But he had been working with them for over ten years, and he was good at putting two and two together. He had always known Phil and Nick were friends; finding out the two alphas were more had been a shock, yes, but not much of a surprise.

The old and almost faded bonding scar on Phil’s chest – mirroring the one on Nick’s – had been the first clue. The second had come when Phil had brought Clint home after an injury had unexpectedly left him unable to function on his own and Nick had come over after work – had come _home_ , really. He had backpedalled and left quickly, pretending he had only been dropping off some paperwork for Phil, but Clint wasn’t stupid. 

It had been easy to confirm his suspicions after that. As mates, their ruts would have synchronised and while they still suppressed most of the time, SHIELD rarely allowing them to take days off, they would disappear together every now and then. Oh, they were careful about it, never leaving or returning on the same day, but Clint had always been good at seeing patterns. And he had been looking.

He had brought the subject up with Phil exactly once. He had landed himself in Medical after an op gone wrong and Phil, who had always had an overlarge sense of responsibility, had insisted on keeping him company. High on painkillers, Clint had apologised for ruining his plans with Fury. Phil had pretended not to understand so Clint had taken the hint and never mentioned it again. Sure, it hurt a little that they didn’t trust him enough to confirm it – even indirectly –, but he understood. It simply wouldn’t do if word got out that two of SHIELD’s highest ranking members were compromised and easy targets at the same time. 

It hadn’t been any of his business anyway – no matter how much he may have wished differently at times –, but that was about to change. Because Fury would be going into rut soon and he was stuck here with Clint instead of being home, which he should have been days ago. 

It would hardly be the first time that sort of things happened in the field – missions ran over, people forgot their meds, accidents happened. As it was, every SHIELD med kit carried both alpha and omega suppressants but of course that wouldn’t help them – their med kit was back at their tent with the rest of their meagre possessions.

They would have to deal with it.

“Are we going to talk about this?” Clint finally asked that evening after setting down his empty bowl of soup.

To his credit, Fury didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about. Instead he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that,” he said, and Clint glanced towards the window.

“Well, it doesn’t look like it’s going to let up any time soon, so we’re going to have to. I’m guessing you checked the other cabins for suppressants?”

“I did. There wasn’t any.”

Clint nodded to himself, not really surprised. Silence settled over the room as they both pondered their situation, and then:

“You should lock yourself in the bathroom,” Fury said. Clint rolled his eyes.

“I think we both know that’s not going to stop you.”

That got him a glare. “You’re not helping.”

“What do you want me to do? Run away screaming? That’s not going to help either of us. You need to fuck someone, I’m here – do you have a better idea?”

“You could leave. Go to another cabin.”

Clint snorted. “Right. And when you’re out of your mind in a few hours and your brain starts to think it’s a good idea to go after me – or anyone else, really – and you end up freezing to death, that won’t be on me at all.”

Nick though looked like he was going to be stubborn, and Clint sighed.

“Look, I get it. This is less than ideal. And if you really don’t want to, we’ll find a way. But if you’re doing this out of some… concern for me, you can stop now. I’ll be fine. So, just… think about it.”

Clint carried their bowls back into the kitchen, giving them a cursory rinse. Then he leaned back against the sink and went through their options one more time.

He had been thinking about it all afternoon, ever since he had figured out what was wrong with Nick, and so he wasn’t surprised when he didn’t come up with anything new. Locking Nick up somewhere would be about as effective as Clint locking himself up, and he doubted any type of restraints available to them at the moment would hold the man for long. As he had told him, leaving him alone was a terrible idea – he was Fury’s backup, no matter what. Sedation would have been a solution, except he had nothing to sedate Fury with, and he could hardly hit his head over and over again to keep him unconscious for the next three days. Clint was confident that he could take Nick down if he had to, but handing SHIELD an accidentally brain-damaged Fury back wouldn’t win him any point.

No, their safest bet was to go through with it. He had been honest with Fury: he would be fine. He liked Nick. Trusted him. And yes, he had always found him attractive – which made it worse, in a way. But they could do this, deal with the next three days – or less, if the storm let up enough for their transport to get there. Then they would go home, and things would go back to normal. They would be fine.

Phil would understand.

Later that night, they were both pretending to sleep, back to back on the bed, when Fury broke the silence.

“I’m sorry this is happening,” he said quietly. 

“Not your fault.”

And it wasn’t, not really. Wasn’t Clint’s fault either, but there was no point in making it worse.

“So are we doing this?” he asked, as lightly as he could.

“I guess we are.”

“When?”

“Soon, I think. Probably by morning.”

“Okay.”

“Given the circumstances, can I ask…?” Nick trailed off, and Clint sighed. 

In an attempt to lessen the discrimination against omegas, it had been against the law for employers to ask about their employees’ status for over two decades now. Clint had told exactly one person since he had turned 18, and that had turned out to be such a gigantic mistake that he hadn’t done it again. He had been young and stupid, and Stewart had been the first real friend he had made since joining the military. Things had actually been fine for a while, until it had become clear Clint was so much better at everything. _That_ had been a problem. So the guy had tried to put him back in his place the only way he had known how, and the only reason everyone in their platoon hadn’t found out was because Stewart hadn’t wanted people to know he had had his ass kicked by an _omega_.

Since then Clint had kept that piece of information close to his vest, not because he was ashamed but because he just wanted to be left alone to do his job and that would never happen if people knew. Most people assumed he was a beta, or an alpha if they saw him take suppressants, and only Medical knew the truth. Clint wasn’t stupid: he wasn’t about to withhold information that could potentially save his life one day, and SHIELD’s doctors took their Hippocratic Oath very seriously: not even Fury had access to their files.

But it was all moot now. Whether he told him or not, Fury would find out soon enough.

“Does it matter?” He still asked, genuinely curious.

“Probably not in the way you mean. But if we need lube, or if pregnancy is an issue, then we –”

“I’m an omega. Lube would still be a good idea at some point, but we can do without if we have to. Pregnancy won’t be an issue.”

There was another beat of silence during which the crackling of the fire and the howl of the wind outside were all that could be heard.

“There is some kind of Vaseline in the bathroom,” Nick finally offered.

“That’s fine.” It was hardly his first choice but now was not the time to be picky. “You’re not surprised.”

He heard the ruffle of clothes and assumed Nick was shrugging.

“I wondered, after the thing with Stewart.” Clint winced – of course Nick knew about that. Always keeping tabs, that man. “And I remember who you were dating in high school.” Right. There was that too – Nick meeting his then boyfriend had been one of the most awkward moments of Clint’s life. 

Fury paused, seemed to hesitate, and then: “You do know it doesn’t matter to me – or SHIELD – one way or another, right?”

Which was nice, except: “It matters to some.”

“Well, they’re idiots.”

“Idiots I need to be able to work with if I want to do my job properly.”

“Yeah, well, I’d fire them all if I could,” Nick grumbled, but that was Clint’s friend talking, not the Director of SHIELD.

He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

\---

When Clint woke up, a pale light was coming from the boarded windows. The fire had been reduced to ambers and it was cold, but not as cold as it would have been if Fury hadn’t been wrapped around him. Even with their clothes on, he felt much too warm and his hard-on was digging into Clint’s ass as he pawed at his pants, trying to get them open.

Right.

That wasn’t going to work.

Batting his hands away, Clint rolled out of bed. He almost smiled at the confused look on Nick’s face – rut really did make alphas stupid – and gave him a pointed look.

“If you don’t mind, we’re going to do this my way,” he said and watched as Nick made a visible effort to pull himself together. It was fairly impressive that he didn’t simply drag Clint back to bed, and Clint knew then that they would be okay.

“Sorry,” Nick said and Clint waved away his apology.

“Fire first, and breakfast. Sex after.”

Nick nodded and Clint went to get more logs from the shed, going back and forth a few times before he felt confident they had enough to see them through the next few days. He didn’t fancy going out there naked if they ran out. The fire took quickly, and breakfast was an equally fast absorption of the weak tea and dried meat Fury had found during his scavenging.

Through it all, Nick trailed after him like a puppy begging for a treat, which wasn’t far from the truth. He was holding it together remarkably well for now but it was still early in the rut and Clint knew it wouldn’t last forever.

When they found themselves back by the bed, they both had a moment of hesitation, fingers hovering over buttons before they started undressing.

“I need to say this now while I still can,” Nick said suddenly and Clint looked up to find him very serious. “If you change your mind, you knock me out. I’d take that over the alternative.”

Clint nodded and pulled his thermal shirt over his head, shivering a little as he started working on his pants. 

Soon they were both naked and then Nick was on him. 

Clint had expected to be manhandled on his hands and knees and mounted straight away, but instead Nick put him on his back, fingers tracing invisible lines on his skin as if he found it fascinating. This time the shiver that went down Clint’s spine had nothing to do with the temperature. 

It wasn’t long before Nick’s hands dug into Clint’s thighs, spreading his legs open, but again what Clint expected didn’t happen. Instead Nick played with his entrance, pressing against it with his fingers without breaching him until Clint started to respond. His cock twitched, and he felt wetness rush out to meet Nick’s thumb. It seemed to be what the man had been waiting for because he immediately plunged his finger inside, grinning when Clint clenched around it reflexively.

There was something weirdly intimate about the whole thing, from the position to the care Nick seemed to be taking with him. Clint didn’t know what to make of it and he was almost relieved when Nick finally took himself in hand and sank into him with a satisfied grunt.

Except _ow_.

Clint hadn’t exactly been celibate in the past few years but he rarely bottomed anymore, not when it was tantamount to writing _omega_ on his forehead. Besides, he had been on suppressants for most of his adult life, and the rare heats he had allowed to follow its course he had handled himself. He had never been with an alpha in rut – in fact, the last knot he had taken that hadn’t been made of plastic had been back when he was a teenager and had an alpha boyfriend whose knot popped out every time he got a little too excited. It had freaked them both out so much that first time his knot must have shrunk in record time. But now was not the time to go down memory lane, even if the quick jabs of Fury’s hips were vaguely reminiscent of a horny teenage alpha.

“Fuck, slow down,” Clint groaned, because it may not be downright painful but it sure as fuck wasn’t comfortable. 

To his relief, Nick actually listened, his thrusts growing slightly less urgent. 

“Yeah, like that,” Clint approved breathlessly, “let me get used to it first.”

He slowly relaxed into it and it felt good, really good, even when Nick sped up again and started to swell. He went into a frenzy then, straining against Clint again and again to push his knot as deep as it would go, and Clint whimpered and tried to stay still, not that he could have gone anywhere with Nick keeping him pinned right where he wanted him. Still he couldn’t bite back his gasp when Nick started to come – that was definitely different from a knotting dildo. Then it was all over, Nick spent and Clint squirming helplessly on his knot while the alpha nuzzled his throat in what could only be a soothing gesture.

Clint was still hard and he wrapped a hand around his cock to bring himself off roughly. He knew it wouldn’t take much, and indeed it didn’t.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” he sobbed and came with a hoarse shout, clamping down hard on the knot. Nick made a pleased noise that seemed to come from deep within his chest and went back to his petting – Clint’s pleasure hadn’t really been his concern but then Clint hadn’t expected any different. 

Panting, Clint stared at the ceiling.

Three more days to go.

On the first day, Clint made them take breaks for food and water and build the fire back up when it started to fail. Nick never let him go for long, not even when they slept. One moment he would seem fine, and then the next he would be desperate to have him, bending him over whatever surface they happened to be near at the time. Clint tried to remember when his last non-suppressed rut had been for him to be so desperate, but it was getting hard to think straight.

He started losing track of time towards the end of the second day, things getting a little hazy around the edges – too much sex and not enough sleep, without any of the heat hormones to keep him engaged. He was too spent to get hard anymore but Nick didn’t seem to care. The third day was pretty much a haze, and Clint woke up on the fourth feeling cold and sore everywhere, Nick asleep a few feet away from him – a sure sign the rut was over, or he would never have let Clint out of arm’s reach.

Clint pushed himself to his feet with a wince to drop another log in the fire, and then he grabbed his discarded clothes and shuffled towards the bathroom. Everything hurt and he really wanted a shower, but he made himself check the blinds first and call HQ when he was greeted by sunlight and a blue sky. The storm had passed – he didn’t remember when –, and Hill told him their transport was already on its way, sounding relieved to hear from him.

His duty done, Clint stood in front of the mirror and took stock of himself. He wasn’t surprised to find finger-shaped bruises over most of his body, featuring predominantly over his arms, wrists, hips and thighs. However it was the bite mark high on his chest, just under his collarbone, that brought him up short.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

Trying to remember when that had happened, Clint had a brief flash of Nick’s hand in his hair, tugging his head back, and the brief flare of panic that had been quickly overtaken by sharp pain when Nick had bitten down hard enough to draw blood – that shit freaking _hurt_.

The panic was back full scale now, and Clint forced himself to breathe slowly and think. After all, there was a reason he hadn’t noticed it earlier. He didn’t feel any different – maybe the bond hadn’t taken? But no, there it was, Clint realised with a curse as he rooted through his mind for any sign of it. Still it felt… weird. Granted, he had no idea what a mating bond was like, but going by the amount of romance novels and poetry written on the matter, he was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to be like _that_. As things were, there _was_ a bond, but when Clint tried to follow it, it was like hitting the equivalent of a brick wall.

Which meant either Nick was suppressing it – most likely unconsciously as he was still asleep –, or there was something wrong on Clint’s side. While the former was a definite possibility and the latter wouldn’t surprise him at all – Clint was a screw-up in all things omega and perfectly okay with that –, a third possibility quickly appeared: that Nick’s bond with Phil took precedence and rendered this one fairly useless. 

Well. Accidental or involuntary bondings were rare but it happened. They would take care of it.

Clint stepped into the shower, hissing as the freezing water hit him. He made quick work of scrubbing himself clean, washing come and Nick’s scent off him before drying himself and cleaning the bite as best he could. Then he put his clothes on, teeth chattering, and went back to the living room to shake Nick awake. But before his hand could make contact, Nick grabbed his wrist and stopped his movement short. The grip was tight enough to be painful, but Clint kept his face impassive as he met Fury’s eye.

“Transport will be here soon,” he told him, all business. “You might want to clean up first.”

Fury let go of his wrist abruptly and nodded, rising to his feet and disappearing into the bathroom.

That went well, Clint thought wryly, checking his weapons before opening the front door to let some air circulate and clear out the heavy smell of sex. SHIELD would deal with the house’s clean-up, but that didn’t mean he wanted everyone to know what had happened here, and Fury probably didn’t either. He did a quick check of their surroundings, making sure their attackers hadn’t taken advantage of the clement weather to catch up to them, but the snow was undisturbed and soon he could hear the unmistakable sound of a quinjet getting closer.

Fury joined him outside and they stood shoulder to shoulder, watching its descent.

“Do we need to talk about this?” Nick asked.

“Nope,” Clint said lightly, looking straight ahead.

“Good. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. And thanks.”

Clint shrugged. “No harm done.”

Fury nodded and they made their way towards the quinjet. The trip back to the helicarrier was long and mostly silent, and rather uncomfortable for Clint. He skipped the visit to Medical when they got there – Fury wasn’t Phil, he wouldn’t make him go –, and settled down to write as vague a report as he would get away with.

Days went by, and he and Nick were fine. They took each other at their word and pretended nothing had happened. Some partnerships broke over it, but Clint wasn’t about to let it ruin anything. Of course, not all people ended up bonded but it was entirely possible that Nick didn’t remember that part. After all, the bond was suppressed and _he_ had no new scar on his body to show for it – a left-over relic from the good old days, and one of the reasons omegas had long been thought of as biologically inferior, bonds imposed on them without their say-so. They didn’t need to mark their partners for it to take, not unless they were bonding with another omega – and even that was a fairly recent development.

If Nick knew about the bond, he didn’t bring it up either. It was fine by Clint. The bond didn’t work, and it wasn’t like it was getting in the way of other mating prospects. Most alphas would view Clint as damaged goods anyway, and this was just one more reason for it. Clint didn’t care. He didn’t want to be with anyone who felt that way.

Clint had a harder time behaving normally around Phil. He had to know Nick had fucked him – _their_ bond worked just fine and Clint had caught Phil staring fixedly at the bruises on his wrists when his jacket had ridden up in a briefing – but he was pretty sure Phil would move past it since it meant Nick was still around instead of, well, dead. Clint would too, eventually, except the bond was making him feel guilty. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself it didn’t mean anything, it was still _there_ , and its mere presence felt more like a betrayal of what Phil had with Nick than any amount of sex ever could.

It didn’t help that Clint couldn’t simply walk up to the man and outright ask if they were okay. As far as he was supposed to know, what affected Nick was of no relevance to Phil outside the boundaries of SHIELD. If Phil wanted to bring it up – whatever _it_ was –, he would have to make the first step. Then again, Clint could hardly blame him for wanting to keep the whole charade up. After all, Loki had proven not so long ago that it didn’t matter where Clint’s true loyalty laid. In the end there would always be times when he simply couldn’t be trusted. Maybe it _was_ best to maintain the illusion – should it happen again, better Clint shared simple suspicions than an unequivocal truth.

It wasn’t a great feeling, but he understood.

He did wish Natasha were there instead of back in Russia, trying to salvage the op that had been interrupted by Loki’s appearance. She would have known what to do about Phil and, barring that, it would have been nice to have someone to distract him. Then again, she would probably have killed Fury for this, no matter what Clint said, so maybe it was for the best that she wouldn’t be back for a few more weeks.

In the end Clint settled on mostly avoiding Phil. It wasn’t particularly difficult: Phil was still on light duty and divided his time between his apartment and HQ where he was putting some sort of team together. It was easy to be busy at the gym or the range when they were both around: all Clint had to do was not seek him out, which left him with a surprising amount of free time. 

Phil noticed. 

Of course he noticed.

He cornered Clint eventually and they had a very awkward conversation, Phil trying to make sure Clint was okay without actually saying anything about why he wouldn’t be. It was funny because Clint had been worried about how _Phil_ was doing. So he took pity on him and told him he was fine with a light hand on his arm. All he could see on Phil’s face was relief, and that made Clint feel a little better too.

It was a start.

\---

Four weeks after Russia, Clint went into heat. He was on an op in Thailand, and it was early. Clint’s hands shook as he took his suppressants – he was _never_ early, not by a whole month, and it could only mean one thing: his body was trying to synch up with Fury’s.

It was a fucking disaster.

\---

Natasha came back two weeks later, slotting back into Clint’s life as she always did. It was a relief to have her around to watch his back – and plummet him at the gym.

“You’re getting sloppy,” she told him with a frown, hands on her hips as she looked down at him.

He glared at her from where he laid gasping for breath on the floor. Natasha always came back from ops where she had to play a coquettish woman with too much energy to spare and a desire to kick some ass – Clint’s, traditionally, but now that they were supposedly part of a team of superheroes, maybe he should volunteer Rogers. That should help with the team-building and keep Nat happy.

“You always say that,” he said accusingly. “Had enough yet?”

She considered it before giving a short nod and extended her hand to Clint to help him up.

He pushed himself to his feet with an exaggerated – and only half-fake – groan that made Nat roll her eyes. But he saw the smile she tried to hide before it broke free and congratulated himself for a job well done.

Now she really was back.

“Come on, shower time. You stink,” he said and ducked just in time to avoid her fist coming to exact revenge.

After nearly two hours at the gym with Nat, the shower felt great to his tired muscles and he sighed, happy to lose track of time while he unwound slowly. He ended up taking too long, and when he got out of the shower with a towel around his waist, Natasha was waiting for him. Clint rolled his eyes and did not point out this was the men’s locker – it had never stopped her before – and she smirked at him. He was about to flip her off when her expression froze. He tensed reflexively, expecting danger to come at them from somewhere, but she was on her feet and in front of him in a heartbeat.

“Who?” she hissed.

Oh, crap.

The bruises had long since faded but the bonding scar was still pretty vivid, and Clint looked away. He wished he could invent a passionate love affair that had swiped him off his feet in the three months she had been away, but she would know in an instant that he was lying. So he settled on saying nothing at all, which was an answer in itself. He could already see her mentally shifting through the people they knew to find a likely culprit, and he had to derail her somehow.

“Look, it’s okay, it was an accident,” he said, and she looked at him through narrowed eyes as she gauged the truth in his words. “I mean, who’d want me anyway, right?” he tried to joke to lighten the mood but it fell flat, hitting a little too close to the truth for comfort.

Natasha swatted at him. “Idiot.” 

Then she sighed. “Are you really okay?”

“Yeah. We’ll break it off if it starts being a nuisance.”

“Good.” She stared at the bite mark some more before shaking her head slightly. “Now come, you promised me food.”

Clint hadn’t promised her anything but it was another of their traditions. She came back from a solo mission, kicked Clint’s ass at the gym, and then he cooked for her and watched her back while she slept. It went both ways: when Clint was the one away, they followed the same routine, except it was the range instead of the gym and Natasha got take-out. She couldn’t cook.

“Can I get dressed first?” Clint asked.

“If you must…” She leered at him, and it was nice of her to try to cheer him up. Unnecessary, but nice.

Later, with Natasha asleep against him, Clint allowed his thoughts to wander. He knew he was an attractive guy. He had never had any trouble finding a partner for a night or two. But as an omega and potential mate, Clint had been made acutely aware by the world around him that he left a lot to be desired. He was okay with that: he wasn’t about to conform to some idea of what an omega should be like to make someone else happy, and he didn’t want to be with anyone who’d ask him to anyway.

Omegas were rare and somehow that had led the collective mind to believe they had to be protected, but Clint didn’t want to be treasured or coddled by everyone he met. He wasn’t the only one who felt that way and advances were being made slowly, but for now outdated views prevailed and the few omegas who chose to openly go into the military or law-enforcement were usually met with incomprehension or outright rejection. After all, how dare they put themselves in the line of fire? Well, fuck them. It was Clint’s life and he would do whatever the hell he pleased with it.

SHIELD had a better track record than most agencies and he knew a couple of omegas on active duty who were open about it, but then Clint had always been held to double standards. Ever since his rather unorthodox recruitment as ‘the World’s Greatest Marksman’, his actions and skills had been scrutinised by a lot of people and his spot on the Avengers team hadn’t helped any. Those same people – alphas and betas alike – would have a hard time accepting an omega had earned it all on his own merit and it would be easy for them to make his life difficult.

When it came to dating, Clint kept well away from that type: he had learned a long time ago to stay clear of assholes who would see him as a challenge and sex as an opportunity to reassert their so-called superiority – he could thank Stewart for that, at least. So he didn’t date alphas but it sometimes felt like the betas he _had_ dated had had even more to prove than any alpha. As for other omegas, why should they settle for a guy who only behaved like an alpha when they could have the real deal? 

Besides, his work was hell on relationships. Dating another agent would have made things easier but Clint hadn’t been able to trust his gut about how people would react to finding out he was an omega in a long time. Natasha’s non-reaction had helped, but then she was his best friend, not a potential mate, and he could count on the fingers of one hand the people he could imagine himself telling. But even then, there were other things to consider: for one, three bullets to the abdomen had gotten rid of any hope Clint may have had of ever having kids – not that he had wanted them in the first place but it would have been nice to have a choice. It would be a deal breaker for many, but this was almost worse. Most alphas didn’t handle competition very well and a bond with a still living alpha, even broken, wouldn’t help any. 

It was fine though. Clint didn’t mind being single and it was definitely better than settling. He kept falling for people he couldn’t have anyway.

He had thought at one point that he and Phil could have a shot but that had been before he had figured out he and Nick had been bonded for longer than he had known them. At least he had realised that before he had made a fool of himself. Not that he blamed Phil for any of it – he had had the biggest crush on Nick when he was a kid.

Really, Clint thought with a wry smile, he had the worst luck in love.

Still, it could be a lot worse. He had Natasha, he had his job at SHIELD, and he had the Avengers. Phil was a good friend and so was Nick when he wasn’t being SHIELD’s Director. It was enough. 

In the grand scheme of things, this was just a temporary bump in the road. The scar would fade and everything would go back to the way they were – the way they had always been.

\---

Five months later – exactly six months to the day that had started it all –, Clint went into heat early again. He and Nick were in synch now, which meant he and Phil were too. There were _three_ high-ranking SHIELD agents out of play at the same time instead of just two – just what they needed.

Medical had cleared Phil for active duty a month earlier and Clint was pretty sure he and Fury would allow their rut to proceed instead of suppressing it. He was proven right when Phil mentioned in passing that he would be taking a week off to visit his family and Nick disappeared a couple of days later.

Clint knew he should have taken the suppressants when the warning signs started. It was stupid not to. But there was a part of him – the one that wasn’t being entirely rational thanks to the heat – that kept insisting he had a mate now and that he would be there. 

He could have called Nick and told him everything. He knew he would have come and helped, out of duty if nothing else. But Clint didn’t want duty – _duty_ had landed them in this mess in the first place. But he wasn’t sure _what_ he wanted, and so he didn’t call.

He hated being in heat, being reduced to a nearly mindless body who only craved a knot. Omegas remained fairly aware of what was going on around them, unlike alphas, but that just made it worse, forcing Clint to be fully aware of his deterioration. Maybe it could be good with someone he trusted, but Natasha wasn’t an alpha and Phil and Nick were taken. 

His body knew something was different this time and it wanted its mate, so much that Phil barely mattered anymore – except that wasn’t quite true, was it? Because if Nick came, maybe Phil would too, and then–

Clint tried to keep the door closed on that line of thinking but he kept circling back to it. He found himself thinking about what Phil and Nick were doing, imagining them together – did they handle their rut alone together or did they share an omega between them? Did one fuck his ass while the other made do with his mouth, or did they make him take their two knots at the same time? Was that even possible? Clint wanted to try – wanted to be a hole for them to fuck and knot and fill with their come like the rest of him didn’t matter and–

He recoiled, jolting out of the heat daze angry at his mind’s betrayal. He did _not_ want that. It went against everything he held dear and he wasn’t going to let some fucked up biological imperative mess with his head like that.

So after spending hours horny and miserable, Clint finally resigned himself to the fact that no one was coming. It wasn’t really a surprise, and he didn’t blame anyone but himself for thinking otherwise. He dragged himself to the bathroom and fumbled with the suppressants. Taking them once a heat was well under way wasn’t pleasant, but Clint knew what to expect – sometimes it just couldn’t be helped, like that one time he had been held by HYDRA and missed his injection window. It was lucky Natasha had been his backup then, but then when wasn’t she?

True to form, Natasha found him curled into a ball on the bathroom floor a couple hours later. The worst was over, and she cleaned him up and put him to bed.

He woke up the next day, feeling gritty and exhausted. He was drooling on Nat’s shoulder, and he wiped his mouth and tried to do the same to her T-shirt – failed – before settling back against her with a sigh.

“Was it Phil?” she asked in the quiet, and Clint gave a slight shake of his head.

“Fury.”

She did a slight double take, and Clint huffed a tired laugh.

“You never do things the easy way, do you?” she said almost fondly, and Clint shrugged. “Tell me.”

So he did, while she ran her fingers through his hair, the motion strangely soothing. By the time he was done, he could feel his eyelids growing heavy again, but Natasha’s next words made all thoughts of going back to sleep go right out of the window.

“They would be good for you, you know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered, “they’ve been together for ages and things are good between them. Why would they want to add me to the mix?”

Her fingers tightened almost painfully on his hair and he winced, causing her hand to drop away.

For a few seconds, there was only silence, and then:

“You know I would have you in a heartbeat,” she said softly, and Clint smiled at her.

“I know,” he said, giving her an affectionate kiss on the forehead that made her wrinkle her nose. “But we’re good, right?”

“We are. And so could they be.”

“Nat, come on,” Clint protested.

“You can’t say Fury doesn’t want you,” she pointed out, tapping the bonding scar on his chest lightly.

“That was an accident.”

She snorted. “Right. If every alpha claimed who they were with during a rut, there would be a lot more accidental bondings out there. It’s not just the bite, it’s the intent, and you know it.”

“But Phil–”

“I know. It’s okay to be scared. Just… think about it, yes?”

He nodded almost reluctantly, before pointing out: “I’m not giving this up.”

Nat rolled her eyes at him. “Of course not. I’d like to see them try.”

Despite everything, Clint found himself grinning.

Truth be told, Clint would have been perfectly happy _not_ thinking about it at all, but now that she knew Natasha wouldn’t let him.

“Figured it out yet?” she would ask every now and then, and Clint would shake his head.

No, not yet.

Everything came to a head when an Avengers op went sideways and Clint ended up in Medical. He had left his perch and joined the fray on the ground only to have a too-close encounter with a flying car just as the action was winding down. He didn’t know what said car had done to offend the Hulk but it had exploded on impact a few feet away from Clint and what had happened afterwards was a bit blurry. He must have gotten thrown into something hard by the explosion – Bruce was going to blame himself, no doubt, Clint thought with a sigh.

“Hey.”

Clint cracked an eye open, wincing at the light, and a second later the luminosity of the room was lowered to something that didn’t make his head scream obscenities at him.

He hated concussions.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, because when they had assembled Phil and his new team had been somewhere in South America.

“We came back yesterday. Must have passed each other in the air.”

Clint nodded and then winced when it made the nausea worse.

“So what’s the verdict?” he asked.

“Concussion, some second-degree burns on your arms –” Clint risked opening his eyes again to see the extent of the damage – oh well, that didn’t look too bad, “– and a lot of minor lacerations. They should let you out of here tomorrow. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m going to throw up,” he answered honestly.

“Try to give me some warning if you can,” Phil said wryly, leaning back in his chair slightly.

“Yeah, yeah. How are the others?”

“They’re fine. A few bruises here and there, but nothing serious.”

“Good.”

Clint relaxed back onto the bed, trying to find a comfortable position. He couldn’t wait to go back to his apartment.

“So, I couldn’t help but notice –” Phil trailed off with a smile that looked almost forced. “That’s new.” He nodded towards Clint’s chest, and Clint just… froze. He didn’t need to look down to know what Phil was talking about, SHIELD’s hospital gowns were notoriously revealing, and that ‘oh shit’ moment was his undoing.

He could tell the exact moment Phil connected the dots. Instead of congratulating him on his new bond – though really, how could Clint have gotten himself a proper mate without him knowing? –, Phil stayed silent, shock written all over his face.

“Shit,” he finally said rather succinctly, and Clint would have laughed if he hadn’t been trying so hard to keep the bile down.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, suddenly unable to meet Phil’s eyes.

“No, Clint, God no. _I’m_ sorry,” Phil said forcefully, before he stood. “I have to– I’ve got to make a phone call.”

He left the room and Clint closed his eyes.

Well, fuck. Now they _would_ have to talk about it. 

Natasha would be so pleased.

As if summoned, she slipped into his room a few minutes later, slouching down into the chair Phil had vacated. She had a bandage on one arm but seemed otherwise fine, and Clint breathed out in relief – until she opened her mouth.

“I thought you might want to know that Coulson and Fury are pretending they’re not arguing about you on the other side of that door,” she said.

“Fuck.”

“What happened?”

“Phil happened,” he muttered, pushing himself to a sitting position and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. 

The room swam around him and he had to grab hold of the IV stand for balance when he got his feet under him. Once he was halfway sure he wasn’t about to fall face first on the floor, he threw Nat a challenging look, but she seemed perfectly content to let him continue. So he made his way slowly towards the door, the dizziness making him regret every single moment of it, while Nat kept a watchful eye on him until he managed to throw the door open.

“Do you really have to do this in the hallway?” he asked them, because yes, it was late, but it was also SHIELD Medical and there were always people around. While he trusted them to be circumspect with their words in public, he’d rather keep this mess private.

“Clint–” Phil started, taking a step in his direction before Nick cut him off.

“Barton, get your ass back to bed,” he said, rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache – which he may very well have, if Clint’s was leaking through. 

Like Phil earlier, his eyes trailed down to stare at the bonding scar and Clint covered it hastily, holding his ground.

“Fuck off, _Nick_ , you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Nick blinked at him in what may have been surprise, and for a second Clint thought he was going to pull the Director card. But Clint wasn’t talking to his boss and indeed the man smiled, shaking his head slightly.

“We’ll do it your way then,” he said. “Please go back to bed before you pass out and we’ll continue this inside.”

“I don’t pass out,” Clint felt the need to point out, ignoring Natasha’s snort, but he took a step back to let them in.

With the four of them in the room, it felt a bit too crowded, and the throbbing in his head returned with a vengeance once he had manoeuvred himself back into bed. For a few seconds, no one spoke and then Nick opened his mouth again.

“Does she have to be here?” he asked, nodding towards Natasha who was leaning against the far wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Yes,” Clint answered and she smirked at Fury. “Look, there is no reason to make a big deal out of this. It happened, it was an accident, we can break it off whenever you want – just say the word.”

Phil and Nick exchanged a look over his head that Clint couldn’t quite decipher and he turned his head towards Nat to see what she made of it. The action made him wince, the nausea coming back tenfold, and he forced himself to go still, hoping it would pass.

“We’ll talk about this when you’re not concussed,” Phil stepped in with a pointed look in Nick’s direction. “Let’s not worry about it now, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Clint sighed. He was tired. “Just… It’s fine, really. Don’t fight about it.”

Phil gave him a small smile that made him feel a little better and Clint risked a glance in Nick’s direction. He was as impassive as ever, but that was fine too. 

“We won’t – we’re not,” Phil said before looking back at Nick and inclining his head towards the door. “Get some rest.”

The two of them left and Natasha pushed herself away from the wall to make her way back to the bed.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“My head hurts,” he said instead of answering, knowing full well how pathetic he sounded – and not caring in the slightest.

“Sleep, you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“Liar,” he mumbled, but closed his eyes anyway.

When he woke up, Phil had reclaimed his chair next to the bed and Natasha was nowhere to be seen.

“Is it morning yet?” Clint asked. 

“Yes. They’ll want to take another look at you and then you can go home.”

“Good.” He yawned and tried to take stock of himself. He did feel marginally better, though the headache was still there – he probably would carry that one around for a few more days. Concussions sucked. But at least he didn’t feel like throwing up anymore, so he would take what he could get.

He glanced at Phil, who seemed engrossed with the content of the IV bag, and sighed.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I mean, you and Nick, you’re good, right?”

Phil shot him a wry look. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about it until you were better?”

“We’re not, I guess. Just… Are you?”

“Yeah, we are, don’t worry about us. How long have you known?”

“A few years.”

Phil’s eyebrows shot up. “That long?”

Clint shrugged.

“I’ll guess we’ll have to be more careful in the future,” Phil muttered to himself, and it was Clint’s turn to look away.

“I’ll get the doctor,” Phil said after an awkward silence. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“Nah, I think I’ll wait a little for that.”

“Okay. I’ll call Natasha – she said she’d take you home.”

“Thanks.”

Phil left, and Clint tried to tell himself he wasn’t disappointed.

\---

Clint’s reprieve lasted ten days during which he saw Phil once and Nick not at all. Then Medical officially cleared him and Phil showed up with an invitation for coffee on the following Sunday afternoon.

“Are you okay with it being at my place?” he asked almost apologetically. “Nick’s is… well, mostly for show. Unless you’d rather we go to your apartment?”

“No, it’s fine.” He liked Phil’s place.

“You can bring Natasha if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

Clint went still, trying to tamp down the anger. He had expected better from Phil. “Is that really going to be a thing now? Treating me like I’m a delicate flower because you found out I was an omega?”

“No, of course not,” Phil said, sounding almost offended. “I just meant–”

“I know what you meant. It’s _fine_.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon then.”

Clint nodded and watched Phil walk away. That had been very weird.

“Phil is being weird,” he told Natasha later that day after collapsing on top of her bed.

“Weird how?” she asked, not looking up from her book.

“I don’t know. Kinda jittery. That’s weird, right?”

“Maybe he’s just nervous. Did you make plans for your big talk?”

“Yeah, I’m meeting with them on Sunday,” he said, rolling on his stomach and burying his face in a pillow. He really didn’t want to think about Sunday.

“Don’t look so gloom. Maybe the world will end before then,” Nat said philosophically and Clint raised his head to glare at her.

“Very funny.”

She put her book down and turned sideways to face him. He sat up with a sigh – clearly, it was time for another talk.

“What do _you_ want?” she asked and Clint stared at his hands.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Do you want to break the bond?”

He shrugged. “No point in keeping it. It doesn’t work.”

“And if it did? Clint, _who_ do you want?”

“Phil,” he admitted softly. It felt strange saying it out loud despite the fact she had figured it out long before he had.

“I know.” Her tone gentled and she squeezed his knee in support. “But you can’t have him without Fury, and you can’t be with Fury just because you want Phil. So the question is: can you grow to want Fury for Fury too?”

“I think so, yeah,” he confessed. He _liked_ Nick, and going by many of his fantasies since he had found out Phil and Nick were together, well… He certainly wasn’t opposed to being with both of them. “I had such a stupid crush on him when I was a kid…”

He trailed off when Natasha raised an amused eyebrow at him, and flopped back on the bed with an embarrassed groan. Right, Nat hadn’t known him back then – sometimes it was easy to forget she hadn’t been around all his life.

“Do tell me more,” she said teasingly.

“It was just… You know how Nick found me when I was still in the circus. He would visit from time to time when I was at school, and later in the military he kept an eye on me, showed up every now and then when I was on leave to see how I was doing. No one had really cared enough to bother before, it was nice to have him around.”

“What happened?”

Clint shrugged. “Nothing happened. I grew out of it, I guess.”

“Did you join SHIELD because of him?”

“Nah. I was over it by then and besides, I wasn’t _that_ stupid. No, we were friends, it was good. Then he got promoted and things changed.”

“Phil came along.”

“Yeah.”

They breathed in silence for a while until Clint felt the need to point out: “We’re getting ahead of ourselves anyway. Who’s to say they even want me?”

Natasha rolled her eyes at him. “Clint, of course they want you.”

He wished he could have her confidence.

By the time Sunday came along, bringing Natasha with him was starting to seem like a really good idea. In the end it was a moot point as she was sent on an op three hours before Clint was supposed to be at Phil’s. He had a nagging suspicion Nick may have been behind it but it was one of her oldest covers, and not even he could have arranged it – probably.

Phil invited him in with a slightly harried smile. His sleeves were rolled up and he had a dishcloth in his hands, and he started by apologising.

“Nick had to go back to HQ but he should be back soon,” he told Clint. “I was just finishing cleaning the dishes – running a little late, sorry.”

Clint waved off the apology and followed Phil deeper into his apartment, picking up the towel and starting to dry despite Phil’s half-hearted protests. Sharing kitchen duty was familiar – maybe not at Phil’s place but in dozens of safe houses over the years. It was an easy routine to fall back into.

Between the two of them it didn’t take very long and Clint was putting away the last of the cutlery, vaguely amused that Phil was the type to let dirty dishes accumulate in his sink for as long as possible, when Nick came back. Phil greeted him with a kiss, which Clint thought may be for his benefit. What it was supposed to mean, however, he wasn’t sure. So he stayed where he was, nodding his own hello when Nick looked in his direction. He got the same in return and a tense silence followed until the man broke it with his usual briskness:

“Right, let’s do this. Living room?”

“Yeah, probably best. Clint?” Phil asked and he shrugged. Sure, why not.

Once the three of them had found a seat, Clint and Nick in armchairs and Phil on the couch –again, Clint found himself wondering if they were sitting apart on purpose –, more silence loomed on the horizon and Clint figured he may as well take the initiative.

“So, what do we do now?”

Phil and Nick exchanged a look.

“You and Nick can break the bond, if you want,” Phil said.

“If _I_ want?” Clint frowned.

“We thought– have been thinking– That is, of course if you prefer to break the bond, it’s perfectly fine and nothing has to happen you don’t want, so please don’t feel pressured to say yes, or even say anything at all, you can take all the time you need –”

It was strange to see Phil anything but calm and composed – in fact, it reminded Clint of his early interactions with Steve –, but he still hadn’t gotten to the point and Clint shot a look at Nick, who took it as his clue to intervene bluntly:

“What Phil’s trying to say is: we’re interested in a relationship with you. You in?”

Clint blinked.

“For fuck’s sake, Nick,” Phil sighed, burying his face in his hands briefly before glaring at the man.

“What? I know you’re worried about taking advantage, but when’s the last time Clint did something he didn’t want just because a superior told him to?”

Phil’s glare intensified and Nick winced slightly at the pointed reminder of why they were all here in the first place.

“ _That_ was different,” Nick said. “We all have a choice here. I like my balls where they are – God knows what Romanoff would do to us if she thought he was being pressured into anything.”

“Clint?”

Clint met Phil’s eyes and realised he had been listening to them bicker and still hadn’t said a word. So he opened his mouth and what came out was:

“Why?”

“Why what?” Phil asked slowly. He sounded much more at ease now, as if Clint’s own confusion had settled him.

“I mean, I don’t get it. You guys have been together for – what? Twenty years?”

“Thanks for making me feel old,” Nick muttered and Clint shot him an unimpressed look.

“Come off it, I’ve known you for almost as long,” he pointed out before continuing: “Aren’t you afraid it’s going to screw things up?”

Phil shook his head. “No. We both care about you, obviously, and it’d be different, of course, but in a good way. At least that’s the plan, if you’re willing to give it a try.”

“I can’t have kids.”

Both Nick and Phil blinked at the non-sequitur and even Clint had to admit it had come out of nowhere. 

Shit. 

“That’s… not why we want you with us,” Phil said slowly, almost carefully, and Nick shook his head as well. If Clint hadn’t felt so out of his depth, the slightly horrified look on his face would have been amusing but he was too busy berating himself – way to inspire confidence, there. “In fact, we started talking about it a long time before we knew you were an omega.”

Clint raised a surprised eyebrow. “You did?”

“Yeah. We just want _you_.”

Clint turned that sentence over in his head a few times, but he was having a hard time mastering his thoughts. “I want to. I really do,” he finally confessed with a sigh.

“But?” Nick prompted, and Clint gave him a half-smile.

“But I also really need to think about it,” he said. They both nodded and left it at that.

Wherever she was, Natasha was probably laughing herself silly.

It took Clint a few days to bring the subject up again. In the end he went to Nick, because Phil was complicated and he knew Nick would cut to the chase. He slipped into his office after checking he wasn’t too busy and plopped himself in one of the chairs in front of his desk. It was a privilege few people had and one Clint tried not to abuse. He waited patiently for Nick to finish whatever he was doing, which he signalled by saying:

“You should have told me about the bond.”

Clint shrugged. “Yeah, well. I figured you knew and didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Why would I _not_ want to talk about it?”

“You were already bonded. Thought it would complicate things.”

“It does,” Nick agreed, “but not in a bad way.”

“I’m not sure what that means,” Clint said, and Nick looked at him thoughtfully for a few heartbeats, elbows planted on his desk, before leaning back in his chair.

“Phil is right, you know. We can break the bond and never talk about it again, if that’s what you want.”

“It’s not,” Clint said, staring at his hands.

“I know.”

Clint looked up sharply, an apology already on his lips, but there was no trace of condemnation on Nick’s face. Of course there wouldn’t be – he was as in love with Phil as Clint was. If anything, he looked a little wistful and Clint felt the need to confess:

“You know, I was half in love with you back in the day.” 

That brought a hint of a smile on Nick’s face.

“Yeah, I know that too. I wanted to take you home and ask Phil if we could keep you.”

Clint swallowed at the sheer _want_ that image conjured. “Why didn’t you?”

“You were a kid. I knew you’d move past it eventually and it wouldn’t have been fair to you. Still I should probably apologise – it’s possible the bonding wasn’t entirely accidental.”

“…Good,” Clint said, surprising both himself and Nick, who raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Is it?”

“Got us here, didn’t it?”

He grinned. “I guess it did. Does it mean you’re in?”

“Yeah.”

Nick’s smile widened, turning slightly predatory. He stood and walked around his desk, stopping in front of Clint who had remained rooted in his chair, curious to see what he would do – which was to put a hand on Clint’s shoulder, his thumb finding the bonding scar almost eerily through two layers of clothing. Clint felt a jolt at the touch and Nick’s grip tightened a little when he looked up at him. There was something dark and a little dangerous in his eye, but instead of feeling intimidated Clint’s throat went dry.

“I hope you’re sure about this because I don’t think I could let you go a second time,” Nick said roughly. “Well, I would, because Phil would make me. But…”

“I know.” And the thing was, Clint _was_ sure. Yes, it could go wrong in so many ways but he had to try. He had wanted it for too long not to.

He stood and Nick’s hand fell away when the man took a step back.

“I’ll go talk to Phil,” Clint said and with a final smile in Nick’s direction he went to do just that.

It didn’t take him long to reach Phil’s office and he let himself in after knocking once.

“I think we should go on a date,” he started with, and Phil’s hands stilled on his keyboard.

“The three of us?” he asked for clarification. 

Clint nodded. “Yeah. Probably two-on-two as well, but yeah. The three of us.”

Phil’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. “I’m glad,” he said softly and Clint found himself smiling back helplessly. “I’ll arrange it and let you know?”

“Sounds good.”

It did.

\---

They dated. Work intruded sometimes but Clint hadn’t expected any different – at least they all understood. It was… nice. Great, even. Natasha made fun of him, but Clint found that he liked the whole process. He had never dated a lot in the past and taking things slow had its advantages. 

There was something a little mesmerising about watching Phil and Nick together. Clint had rarely spent time with the two of them together outside of work – not unless it was at a SHIELD function, which hardly counted. There was an ease to their interactions, a familiarity that came from the bond or decades spent together or both – it reminded him of him and Natasha, actually. There was something almost relaxing about being around them when they allowed themselves to be like this and Clint loved that he got to see it. It didn’t make him feel excluded or envious, just thankful that they wanted to share it with him. 

Sometimes Nick had to work or Phil was away with his team, and so Clint would spend time with the other. It was more familiar but it felt new all the same. Still it was comfortable, with a healthy dose of flirtation thrown in the mix, and it didn’t take Clint long to realise that if he hadn’t been in love with them before, he certainly was now.

When he brought up the bond, he found out he had been right, in a way. People couldn’t be bonded to more than one person, not unless their first mate was also on board. Because Nick already had a mate, his bond with Clint was suppressed and would remain so until either his bond with Phil was broken – not going to happen –, or Phil bonded with Clint as well – a definite possibility. 

“But things can remain the way they are if you prefer,” Phil felt the need to point out and both Nick and Clint rolled their eyes at him, making him laugh softly.

“What is it like?” Clint had to ask, curiosity getting the better of him. It wasn’t like he had that many people he could ask. Out of his teammates, only Tony was bonded and he didn’t want to go anywhere near him with that topic.

“The bond? It varies from person to person, I think. You decide how much you want to share with your mate, depending on the circumstances. Usually it’s just there, a presence at the back of your mind. Strong emotions filter through, but apart from that, you choose how open you want to be.”

“Does it mean you knew when…” Clint trailed off, gesturing awkwardly between him and Nick. 

Phil smiled wryly. “Some of it. Distance and suppressants make the bond weaker, but I knew Nick was having sex with you, yeah. He was feeling extremely pleased about it. You can ask Hill, I made a nuisance of myself for three days.”

Clint flushed guiltily. “Sorry.”

“He means he thought it was hot and he wanted to be there,” Nick interjected, smirking when Phil’s grin widened and he admitted to it easily.

Clint found himself smiling along with them, even as he tried not to squirm at the thought. 

Yes, taking it slow _was_ good but it also had its disadvantages – like leaving Clint with the biggest case of blue balls of his life. He was pretty sure they said things like that on purpose, but at least he knew it wouldn’t last forever. Their patience had to be fraying as surely as his own was. 

“They’re driving me crazy,” he complained to Natasha one evening over pizza and she laughed at him.

“They want you to feel secure in your relationship with them before adding sex to the mix. Nothing wrong with that.”

“It’s frustrating,” he grumbled. “Besides, I’m plenty secure. It’s been months!”

“There is nothing stopping you from making the first move,” she pointed out, looking at him knowingly when he considered it and shook his head. 

Yes, it was maddening and he would probably vent about it some more to Nat in a few days of more nothing happening, but he _liked_ it. He liked the teasing and the anticipation, and he wasn’t ready to cut it short just yet. He could wait a little longer.

In the end, Nick was the one who kissed him first. Clint didn’t remember if they had kissed during his rut, and if they had it didn’t seem to matter. The kiss was careful and insistent at the same time, demanding in a way that was all Nick. Clint never wanted it to stop, except maybe so he could kiss Phil or watch them kiss each other. 

Phil fucked him first, slow and sweet until Clint was begging for it, almost sobbing with the need for _more_. Then it became deep and a little rough, and Nick watched, eyes heavy and hot as he stroked himself.

“Can you feel it?” Clint asked him, panting, and his smirk was answer enough. “Oh, fuck.”

Phil was nuzzling his throat and Clint arched towards him.

“Do it,” he said a little desperately, but Phil shook his head, dropping a quick kiss on Nick’s mark.

“Ask me again later,” he said and wrapped his hand around Clint’s cock, distracting him very successfully.

Their next cycle was a couple of weeks away and for the first time Clint found himself looking forward to it. He still found the loss of control associated with it distasteful, but things were different now. He had two partners he trusted with his life, two mates – or at least he would as soon as he asked Phil again, which he planned to do before his heat started so Phil wouldn’t question whether he was in his right mind or not. Excitement thrummed through him every time he thought about it, and the complete absence of apprehension told him he was ready.

The world, however, had other plans: an attack on Chicago had them all on suppressants for the duration. It was all hands on deck, and Phil’s team along with a squad of SHIELD agents were sent along the Avengers. Clint didn’t complain, especially with Phil joining them, but he knew his disappointment was visible as Phil drove the two of them to the air strip where a quinjet was waiting. They had gotten there first and Phil took the opportunity to squeeze his hand.

“You know, you don’t have to be in heat to bond.” There was a small smile on his lips that Clint wanted to kiss and he found himself taking a step closer, want making his breathing shorten.

“Do it now?” he asked, throwing caution to the wind. Then he would be able to feel Nick and Phil in his head during the mission. He wanted that. They were alone on the plane, who would know?

“I want to – God, I want to,” Phil said, pulling him into a rough kiss before pressing their forehead together. “But you’ll need a day or two to get used to having two bonds sprang on you at the same time. You don’t want to go in the field like that, believe me. Besides, Nick and I would be distracted as well and that wouldn’t be a good thing. We’ll do it after, promise.”

Clint nodded just as Phil’s phone rang. He barely glanced at the display before he answered, listening to whoever was on the other end before saying “yes, boss” with a grin and hanging up.

“Nick says no bonding without him there – and certainly not when he’s supposed to be briefing the WSC in half an hour,” he summarised for Clint, who laughed.

“Yes, sir,” he said with a grin and went to start his pre-take off checklist.

It took four days for the situation in Chicago to resolve itself, though the worst of it was thankfully over after the first few hours. But there was no off switch this time around and pockets of fighting stubbornly remained across the city and its suburbs, flaring here and there and calling them back into the fray. After the first day they slept in shifts, catching some rest when they could, and by the time SHIELD gave them the all-clear, they were all exhausted.

They kept the debrief short and to the point and the Avengers went back to New York while Phil’s team was suddenly called three states away, the rest of the agents staying behind to liaise with local authorities and start the clean-up.

Clint was too tired to be disappointed and he dragged Natasha to Phil’s place with him, knowing neither he nor Nick would mind. It was second nature by now – he had spent more time there than at his apartment in the past couple of months –, but Nat wouldn’t be able to sleep on her own and he wouldn’t either, not after an op like that.

They made it through the shower awake – barely – before collapsing face first on the bed. Clint woke up some twelve hours later to the sound of a key in the front door. Nat was still curled behind him and she almost took out Nick when he came into the bedroom – she had never been good at waking up in new places.

Crisis averted, Clint stretched and smiled fuzzily at Nick, who was looking down at them somewhat bemusedly. Then he shrugged and got into bed on Clint’s other side.

“Hi,” Clint said with a yawn, rolling over to kiss him before closing his eyes again. He had had enough sleep, but the temptation to stay in bed and cuddle with Nick was too great to resist.

On the other hand Nat was – well, fidgeting wasn’t the right word because Natasha didn’t fidget, but Clint knew she wouldn’t be able to relax enough to go back to sleep with Nick there.

“Agent Romanoff, some of us haven’t just slept for half a day – if you can’t stay still, please get out of my bed,” Nick grumbled but Clint ignored him, turning towards Natasha.

“Did you get enough sleep?” he asked her. 

She nodded, dropping a quick kiss on his cheek before rolling out of bed.

“Thanks,” she said and then she was gone, leaving Clint to sidle up to Nick again.

“You’ll have to explain that to me one day,” Nick said and Clint nodded into his shoulder, throwing an arm over him.

“Later.”

“Yeah.”

He dozed on and off for a few more hours, waking up when Nick left for HQ again – unlike the Avengers, the Director was never on stand-down. By then Clint’s stomach was growling and he had breakfast with Nick before waving him off. 

He spent the day milling around the apartment, eating and resting and waiting until Nick got home again.

“Phil’s on his way back. It was a false alarm,” Nick said with a knowing smirk, and excitement surged through Clint. 

When the key turned in the lock an hour later, Clint met Phil at the front door. He had lost his tie and jacket at some point – maybe they were still in the car –, but he didn’t look on the verge of collapse. He must have gotten some sleep at some point. That was a relief because:

“You promised.”

Phil was on him in an instant, walking him backwards into Nick right there in the hallway and capturing his mouth for a messy kiss.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” Phil breathed against his throat when he pulled back and Clint moaned helplessly, his arms coming up around Phil’s shoulders to keep him close. 

He turned his head blindly to find Nick’s waiting lips, and Phil took advantage of the situation to press kisses down his throat, making a frustrated noise as he met the cotton of Clint’s T-shirt.

“You have to–” Clint gasped against Nick’s mouth, groaning when the man took the opportunity to thrust his tongue deeper. 

Phil though seemed to understand him just fine and he grabbed the hem of Clint’s T-shirt to yank it over his head, ignoring Nick’s half-hearted complaint at the disruption. With that out of the way, he stepped in close again until Clint’s back was pressed against Nick’s chest with barely any space left. Clint wanted to stay like this forever, caught between them. The feel of their clothes against his bare skin made him shiver but he needed more – he needed– 

One of Clint’s hands found the back of Phil’s neck and he tried to tug him closer still even as he arched his head back, offering himself. God, he wanted– wanted so much–

“We should continue this in the bedroom,” Phil said. He sounded strained, his teeth grazing Clint’s collar bone, and Clint shook his head frantically.

“No, here, now, do it now,” he pleaded, fingers tightening on Phil’s neck, and Phil moaned. 

“Jesus, Clint. Are you sure?”

“Please. _Please_.”

“Sshhh, okay, okay.”

Clint’s heart rate spiked and he tensed involuntarily in anticipation. But instead of the expected bite, Phil went for his lips again, kissing him deep and wet and so dirty Clint was glad for Nick’s support at his back, for his hands on his hips keeping him steady.

“That’s it, relax,” Nick rumbled behind him, kissing his temple softly, “You know Phil, he likes to take his time.”

As if to prove him wrong Phil’s mouth was suddenly gone and before Clint could wonder where or why Phil was biting him.

He cried out at the sudden pain, there and gone in a flash to leave only a dull throbbing behind as Phil pulled back quickly, and Clint’s legs gave out as the bond snapped into place, unmasking the other in the process.

“Fuck, oh _fuck_ ,” he gasped, letting Nick’s and Phil’s combined strength keep him upright.

“Told you we should have done it in bed,” Phil said. He was shaking slightly – so was Nick –, and Clint would have felt smug if he wasn’t too busy whimpering at the sensations inside his head.

“Let’s relocate,” Nick agreed. 

Between the three of them – two, rather, with Clint’s legs still not working properly – they managed to make it, stumbling onto the bed with Clint securely in the middle.

It was so strange to have them in his mind, Phil’s presence clear and precise and Nick’s all over the place. He could feel so many emotions from the bonds, joy and satisfaction and relief and so much love it brought tears to his eyes. He was so lost in all the different sensations that he barely noticed Nick leave the bed, only coming back to himself at the sharp bite of the disinfectant on his chest.

“What am I like?” he wondered out loud around the tightness in his throat, looking down at Phil’s mark overlapping Nick’s.

“Bright,” Nick said, and Phil nodded. 

“Very bright.”

Clint swallowed hard. 

“One of you really needs to fuck me now,” he stated, and their laughter coursed through him.

It felt like he had been hard ever since Nick had told him Phil was coming and Clint knew it wouldn’t take much to make him come. Luckily, they were more than happy to oblige, discarding their clothes and the rest of Clint’s rapidly.

Phil took the lead and Clint pulled him impatiently on top of him, Phil bucking against him a couple of times before Nick took him in hand and guided him to Clint’s opening. Clint arched to meet him, his legs coming up to bracket Phil as he sank into him and all three of them groaned at the sensation.

“You’re so wet,” Phil panted and Clint made a wordless sound of agreement, nearly incoherent from the endless feedback he was getting from the other two, their arousal pulsing through him along with his own. He had never felt anything like it, and he didn’t know how people survived it – it seemed too much, too good, too _everything_. He reached out for Nick with one hand in an attempt to ground himself, the other going to Phil’s lower back to pull him flush against him.

And then Phil started to fuck him, and all Clint could do was lie there and whimper as the steady roll of his hips sent his cock deep into him, hitting right where he needed. He lost track of time, almost out of his mind with pleasure, until something brought him back to himself.

“Oh God, are you…?” he groaned, clamping down around the swelling cock inside him and Phil nodded tightly, eyes half-closed.

“Can I…?”

“Yes, _yes_.”

That was all the permission Phil needed. His arms shook as he strained forward in a desperate effort to bury his knot as deep as it could go while Clint babbled encouragements, arms and legs wrapped around Phil as if to keep him there despite the fact that Phil clearly had no intention of going anywhere – and soon wouldn’t be able to. 

It was rare for alphas to knot outside a rut or an omega’s heat, and the thought that it was what Phil was doing to him made Clint keen and beg for it.

When Phil tied and started coming, moaning helplessly, it was all too much. Clint convulsed under him, crying out as he followed suit. His vision swam and he must have lost a couple of minutes because when he blinked again Phil was breathing almost regularly again, his lips pressed against the bite marks on his chest.

Then Phil was rolling them so he was on his back with Clint on top of him, the knot keeping them tied together securely. Clint thought about protesting – he was heavier than Phil, surely it would have been better for him the other way around –, but he was too comfortable to form words.

Turning his head to look at Nick, he reached out clumsily for his cock, intent on making him feel as good as he did, but the man shook his head.

“I can wait,” he said and Clint moaned, clenching around Phil at the thought of Nick fucking him now, loose and sloppy from Phil’s cock and come.

It took a while for Phil to soften and through it all Clint shook with aftershocks, sensations fed to him through the bonds. Once the knot felt much smaller, he got his knees under him and pushed himself up, whining a little when it slipped free and left him empty and clenching around nothing. He didn’t spare a thought about what he must look like, sprawled over Phil’s chest with his ass high in the air, presenting himself for–

“Nick,” he panted, reaching out for him again but there was no need: the man was already there.

Nick grasped his hips and mounted him, making him cry out at the sudden intrusion. He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping forward hard and fast, too impatient after feeling both Phil’s and Clint’s orgasms to make it last. It was much too soon for Clint to get hard again but with the bond it almost felt like he was, Nick’s urgency his own as he chased after his orgasm.

“Please, please, _please_ ,” he moaned, pushing back into Nick’s thrusts desperately, unsure what he was even asking for until: 

“Knot me, oh God, do it, please knot me,” he pleaded, the thought rendering him almost mindless with need. He felt Phil shudder under him and Nick didn’t seem to fare much better.

“Jesus, Clint,” he groaned behind him, sounding almost pained, and not long after he started to swell, swearing and fucking harder into him as he did.

“Yes, _yes_ ,” Clint sobbed, trying to arch back into it before both Nick and Phil held him still so he wouldn’t hurt himself – Phil’s hands soft and soothing and Nick’s tight and demanding.

“Sshh, there you go, just relax and take it,” Nick told him, his voice rough as he kept moving, the knot too big by now to let him do more than just rock back and forth.

Clint clamped down around him in retaliation, and Nick cursed at the sudden tightness around his cock, his hips bucking forward harshly almost involuntarily. Clint shrieked at the sudden movement and in the next breath Nick’s orgasm hit, the man grunting as he spent himself. Clint’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly, his limp cock twitching in an effort to follow suit, and he slumped against Phil, the only sound in the room that of their irregular breathing.

“Come on, lie down,” Phil finally said, and Nick made a noise of agreement.

They settled on their side so they wouldn’t crush Phil, Clint too out of it to be much help but very pleased with the results, caught between the other two. He squirmed a little, still tied to Nick, and tried to kiss Phil, missing his mouth entirely. It made Phil laugh and wrap a hand around Clint’s head to angle his next try better.

“How are you feeling?” he asked needlessly and Clint smiled, yawning half-way through.

“Great,” he said, settling down more comfortably. “We need to do that again soon.”

He felt Nick grin against his shoulder. “You might want to hold that thought for a couple of days – you’re going to be sore tomorrow.”

“Don’t care,” Clint shrugged, and he only grumbled a little when Nick pulled out a little while later.

“I love you,” he told them. 

A second later he was on his back and both of them were trying to kiss him, making him laugh. 

“It can’t be that much of a surprise,” he pointed out breathlessly, “I’m bonded to both of you.”

“Saying it is different,” Nick said.

“We love you too,” Phil said, and Nick nodded. “We do.”

Clint smiled.

He knew.


End file.
